


The Universe That Wasn't

by newtntommy



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-04-07 00:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19073383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtntommy/pseuds/newtntommy
Summary: Diego is put into a mental institution with no memories. He has no idea why he's here, and he'll only sound crazier if he tells anyone. He rolls with the punches, getting to know the others. We got a mute woman, a hulk-sized man, a boy with a notebook and no sleeping schedule in sight, an emotionally stunted girl, and a boy who talks to himself.Great.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited about this story. I'm already pretty far into it. I decided to write a few chapters before posting this first one. I unfortunately do have a busy life, so I'll try to post once a week. Please comment/like/kudos/whatever because it sincerely motivates me to keep writing. I hope you guys like it. 
> 
> I don't have many tags because I don't want to spoil anything. All you need to know going into this is ofc the show and that they are in a mental institution. xx also, they are the same age - early 20s.

Raindrops slide along the window glass with grace from one side to the other. Diego watches a particular quick one - speeding passed the other droplets. His lips curl upwards, shaking his head as childhood memories produce nostalgia for when he did the same thing as a child. 

The clouds darken above the zooming car. Hinting to a future that hasn’t quite chosen what path it will follow. It was an early morning, and he wonders why on earth this was happening at this hour. 

He fingernails dig into his knees, eyes dodging the haunting “Academy Mental Institution” sign the car drives underneath. The black letters glare daggers at him, and nausea shows its ugly form at the pit of his stomach. 

The vehicle halts with a creek of old brakes. The sound of the rain drizzling outside momentarily gets louder as the driver opens the door to get out. 

_Paranoia. Dangerous to society. Must be maintained._

“Alright, get out, amigo,” the bearded driver grunts at him. Diego rolls his eyes. 

He’s handled roughly out of the car, barely giving him enough time for him to duck his head. The man grabs onto his handcuffs, dragging him like a wild animal through the front gate. 

The buildings around him are old based on the cracks in the paint job. Some of the windowsills are bent and hanging by a lone nail, and Diego sucks in a breath. 

Where the hell did he get sent off to?

The front door slides open upon their arrival, and Diego has to admit that the atmosphere drastically changes from the outside to the inside. The minimum decorations are clean and modern. There is artwork on the wall obviously drawn by the patients here (he’ll rip the balls off whoever dares to shove a box of crayons towards his way). There is a water fountain against the wall, which he goes to take a drink from, but he is immediately stopped by the man holding him to his side. 

The lady at the counter grimaces at the action, but doesn’t say anything. Violin plays softly in the background. 

She clears her throat and with a smile, and she brings her hand out, “Keys?” 

The driver tilts his head in confusion before straightening up, “This is Lomeli, Diego-“ 

“I know who he is,” the lady interrupts with a tight smile. Diego likes her already. By her light red lipstick to the flowing pink dress, she was a looker. She seems so out of place here. She has too much happiness and joyful energy spiraling around her to be in a raunchy, house full of freaks like this. 

“Diego was scheduled to be here thirty minutes ago. Am I right?” 

Diego suppresses a smile at the jab. The driver huffs, embarrassment reddening on his puffy cheeks. She has him by the balls, and Diego gets why she’s here. She wasn’t just a pretty face. 

The man digs into his pocket, nervously thrusting the key into her palm. She eyes him, but chooses not to respond. She gives him a wide smile, “Thank you so much for bringing Diego here safely. We appreciate your good work.” 

The lady has not looked at him since he walked in, so it catches Diego by surprise when she finally does. Her smile morphs into something friendlier, and she reaches out to his cuffed hands. 

“Now, wait-“ 

“Yes?” the lady sharply interrupts without looking up. She unlocks Diego’s handcuffs, and he sighs as he flexes his sore wrist muscles. 

“I don’t think you’re aware how dangerous this guy is.” 

She coos, turning back to Diego with a smile,” He won’t hurt me.” 

Before Diego can assure her he won’t, she taps him on the nose with a giggle and twirls around and starts to walk. 

“Follow me, dear! Oh! Goodbye, Mister!” 

Diego winks at the driver, who is speeding out the door, and then follows the nice lady down the hall. 

Diego decides not to say anything as they walk. The hall is empty except for a few paintings and mirrors. The violin music grows louder the farther in they walk. With the music mixed with the lady standing up for him, he feels better about the situation. 

Two months. With good behavior. 

He gets stuck in his mind, but he follows the echoes of the lady’s heels hitting the floor. They come to an office, and he takes a seat in the chair in which she points to. 

She goes around the desk and plops down. She hums as she gets out a folder - his folder. Diego clenches his jaw. He peers around her desk and is confused when he notices there isn’t anything that gives away some kind of personal life - no pictures, magnets, cups, decorations, etc. There is only a computer with calm music playing softly, and he can still hear the violin from wherever. 

Was it protocol not to have anything personal at their desk? Show no weaknesses?

The lady opens the folder and places it neatly on the desk. She looks up at Diego with a friendly smile. “You may call me Grace. I am the head nurse here at Umbrella Institution. I am specifically here for you and everyone else in your wing. Whatever you need, I will sure help you with. Your health, though, is my top priority!” 

Not knowing what to say, Diego remains quiet. She doesn’t seem to mind. Her curly blonde hair bounces when she grabs for a pen and starts to write in the folder. 

What the hell is she writing about so soon?

“I am just going to ask you a few questions, check your vitals, and send you on your merry way where you can explore where you’ll be living during your stay with us!” 

Two months and that’s it. 

He nods, “Okay.” 

“First, what is your goal by the end of this?” 

Diego wants to scowl. He doesn’t even want to be here. The state is forcing him to be here. He has a goal: get the hell out of here. 

He can’t scowl at the woman who has been nothing but genuine and kind to him since he got here. He decides to fake it. “Improve. Work on my paranoia.” 

Grace tsks fondly, “Now, Diego, this is confidential. You can tell me anything. Tell me the truth, okay?” 

Diego almost lets her have it. Words at the tip of his tongue, but he realizes they are jumbled. They are out of order, and they feel foreign. It feels like he’s been reading a book, and he’s confused on which story is his and which is the book’s. 

The longer it’s been since his trial, the less detail he can recall. He can hardly think of what his damn lawyer looks like. It started with a fight, then police, court, and now here at a mental institution due to the judge claiming him to be mentally insane and unstable. 

He knows he’s not. He’s not insane. He’s not unstable - though his detective friend would think otherwise. 

He doesn’t know why he’s here, but he knows what he wants now. 

“I want to find out what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.” 

Grace likes that answer. She smiles with pure joy and writes. A few more questions follow including his diet, his hobbies/activities, interests, etc. Nothing too extreme. They go over his schedule - subject to change she likes to say. 

“You are expected at meals at eight am, noon, and six pm. Tardiness is frowned upon. Lights out at nine pm!” 

If it wasn’t for her delightful attitude, he would’ve scoffed. What were they, children? 

“Now,” Grace hums. “Time to check your vitals.” 

He lets her check his heart rate, blood pressure, and temperature. He answers no to allergies and health conditions. It is when she disappears for a moment and reappears with a syringe, that he jumps from his seat with a shout, “No!”

She frowns and tilts her head, “Why, it’ll only be a small pinch! I promise, you won’t even feel it.” 

He sincerely doubts that, and he feels like a child again when he takes a jump back when she moves closer. He eyes the syringe, and he subconsciously grips onto the desk. The violin music gets louder, and so does his heartbeat. 

When Grace flicks the syringe for good measure, he no longer hears the violin. He plummets to the wooden floor. 

*****

Diego wakes to his name being called out. A moist object on his head keeps his eyes shut for a moment. He opens his eyes to find that it is a wet cloth, and he peers up higher to find Grace looking down at him. 

“Diego, honey, are you okay?” 

“Y-Yeah, so-sorry,” he coughs. Right now is not the time for his damn stutter to make itself known. He stands up from his position on the couch, and his face reddens when he realizes his head had been on Grace’s lap. 

Passing out from a syringe. Weak. 

“It’s perfectly alright,” Grace dismisses. She stands up as well and heads for the door. “Though, you did nearly miss lunch! Your roommate should be here in just a minute to fetch you and show you around. Until then, you need to change your clothes.” 

He doesn’t get a chance to argue when suddenly his arms are full of clean clothes. He rolls his eyes at the sweater and sweatpants. Right. 

Grace turns around to look at more paperwork, so he figures he’s supposed to change there. With his face red as a tomato, he switches clothes quickly - nearly falling on his head. At least he gets a giggle from that. 

“Oh, I was going to ask you. Did you take your medicine this morning?” 

_A FDA approved prescription medication will be written by a licensed physician to eradicate your need to take law into your own hands._

Nothing makes Diego angrier than that damn beige pill. That pill makes him feel like an animal. Forced down his throat, and he has a haunting feeling that it does more than ‘calm his nerves’. It does something to his motor skills, weakening them for an unknown reason. He trips over nothing now and his memory doesn’t work as well as it has been. 

Maybe that’s what they want. Make him vulnerable and unable to focus. Force him to be docile and obedient in their eyes. 

“Yes,” he snaps. He forces down the guilt from spreading. She will only be another person that makes him take whatever the hell it is. It was her job. 

She doesn’t respond, and he hopes that’s the end of that. 

There is a soft, yet firm knock at the door. Diego inhales deeply. It was all becoming extremely real now. He was about to meet his roommate. 

Grace must either ignore him or is legitimately excited because with a clap she opens the door. “Luther!” she sing-songs. “Luther, meet Diego. I hope you boys get along.” 

The man at the door has to be around his age. He was stoic and on guard, though there was youth in his face. He was incredibly tall - at least a foot taller than Diego was. Luther was filled out with muscle, and that gives Diego a little ounce of normalcy. There is a gym here somewhere. 

“Hi, Diego,” Luther greets him void of any emotion. He doesn’t want to be here, Diego can tell. His voice is deep and insensitive, and Diego doubts he wants a roommate. It makes him smirk. He was going to have fun messing with this dude. 

Diego only nods with said smirk, which gets him the result he craves: Luther glares and exhales. 

Grace rubs Luther’s shoulder soothingly, “Off you go, boys! Luther, please show him around and make sure he gets to lunch on time.” 

The touch must bring Luther to the present, because his shoulders relax underneath his sweater and he agrees. Luther must like Grace, and it soothes Diego’s worries that Grace isn’t just putting on a show. She won’t turn into some monster now that he’s officially stuck here. 

Diego follows the taller male down the hall. The halls are silent, except for their footsteps. There are a couple of chairs and paintings, but that’s all that takes up the space. 

Luther brings him to a pair of closed doors. Luther glances to his left, and Diego does too to find a lone security guard behind a desk. Quietly, a button is pressed, and the doors open automatically with a buzz. 

When they walk in, Diego watches the doors close behind them. The sound of a lock clicks in place. 

Down the narrow hall, Diego sees a few people walking or sitting down on couches. He’s too far away to see their faces. Anxiety kicks in, theories spinning around like a tornado in his head on why those people are here too. Are they dangerous? Should he stay away? Luther wasn’t so bad so far, but he wouldn’t go as far as voluntarily hang out with the guy. 

He doesn’t remember having many friends before being put into this dump. All he knows is that there is a female detective who at least tolerates him and vice versa. He wasn’t what someone would call a people person. He usually stuck with one or two people - four at the most. That was even pushing it, considering they probably would have to jump a few obstacles to get through to him. The detective must have, since most of his remaining memories tide around her. 

“This is our room.” 

Diego peeks inside, holding back laughter at how sour _our room_ came out. 

It was a basic room with two beds, two lamps, and two sets of drawers. There was also a small bathroom on the other side of the room. One of the beds was taken, and Diego is surprised with how nice and neat the bedsheets are folded. 

Diego points at it, “That creaky, old thing holds a guy like you up?”

Luther gives him a blank look, not taking the bait. Diego is impressed. “Lights out by nine. I’m locking the door whether you’re here or not.”

“Okay, brother,” Diego responds before pausing. “They let you lock the door?” 

“No,” Luther says honestly. His eyes flicker behind him. “But some people have boundary issues.” 

Diego nods. He glances up and finds a camera in the corner of the ceiling. He takes the room in, and he observes Luther’s trinkets. There are a few toy rockets and books about the world around them. There was a lone poster of the constellations. Astronomy nerd. He’ll have to pick on that later. 

Footsteps echo in the hallway, and both men look up at the doorway. A woman walks up and leans on the door frame. Her skin was dark and unblemished, and her unruly curly hair was light brown with dark roots. She wore a pink shirt with black sweats that hugged her figure. She was a beauty. 

“Hey, Allison,” Luther greets with a wavering smile. “This is Diego.” 

Allison gives Diego a welcoming smile, but her focus reverts back to Luther. Her hands make quick movements, and Luther does it right back. Though, Luther has a blush on his cheeks. 

Apparently, Allison wasn’t a talker and she has eyes for Luther. Great. He has no idea how to sign. 

Their silent and short conversation ends, and Allison walks away. Diego raises an eyebrow at Luther, who looks away, “Allison is mute.” 

Diego purses his lips, and Luther doesn’t say anything else. Well, guess he’s going to have to ask someone else how to sign cause Luther wasn’t offering. 

Luther begins walking to the door and he calls back over his meaty shoulder, “I’ll introduce you to the others.” 

“Cool,” Diego agrees. They walk down the hall, and Luther points out a few areas including the kitchen, showers, library, arts and crafts, and how to get to the outside area. It’s all pretty basic, and Diego wonders how people don’t blow their brains out from boredom, but then he recalls that’s exactly the reason why people are here: not to do that. 

Well in his case he supposes, not to do that to other people. 

Once the mini tour is over, Diego walks into a room that appears to be a living room. Three old couches aimed to a small TV, with a wooden table a little ways away. He spots Allison at the table playing a card game with another girl. This girl has pretty fair skin, shoulder length black hair, and her clothes are gray and dull. 

Her expressions are practically nonexistent. Not even a frown sketches her face when Allison makes a particular good move with an excited hoorah. 

Luther nudges him. “That there is Vanya. She is pretty nice, but doesn’t really branch out. The boy next to her is Five,” Luther informs him. Diego gives him a gobsmacked look, and Luther nods with a sigh. “Yes, that’s his name. Or at least, what he prefers to be called. He says it’s cause he was the fifth person here. Anyway, you won’t see one without the other.”

Allison must feel his stare because she looks up at the both of them and smiles. She waves them over, and Diego nearly calls out Luther for moving so damn fast. 

Luther takes a seat on Allison’s left, and Diego takes the right of her. They sign to one another, and Diego observes Vanya and Five. They are sitting hip to hip, but they are living in two different worlds. Vanya with her game with Allison, and Five with his maddening scribbles into his notebook. 

The boy doesn’t appear to have gotten much sleep, considering the dark circles under his eyes. He looks like a wreck. The equations on his papers and side notes are basically gibberish. 

Luther must think the same thing, “Any progress with those equations?” 

“Not like a fool like you would know what to do,” Five barks back. Luther’s knee thumps the table when he tries to stand, but Allison places a warning hand on his shoulder. Vanya giggles from Five’s side. 

Five continues, “Another factor has been added, which forces me to start all over, or make adjustments as I see fit.” 

“My name is Diego,” Diego grunts in annoyance. Five looks at him for one second and goes back to his notes. Well, that settles that. 

Luther joins the card game, and Diego doesn’t know what to do with himself. He spots the TV, and he almost walks over to watch something, but a figure catches his attention. 

A skinny male sits close to the TV, and he has a chess board game set up in front of him. The pieces are scattered amongst the board, and the male includes commentary in the game, but there was one thing. 

No one else was playing the game. 

The guy doesn’t see it that way. He just continues playing, talking and laughing with no one. He idly toys with the cuffs of his black jacket. His pants has laces running from his ankles all the way to the side of his ass. Black ink covers his palms, but Diego can’t see what it is or says. He does see a skull and crossbones on the man’s tricep. 

Interesting. 

And very distracting. 

“That’s Klaus.” 

Diego is surprised to find that it was Five who said it. Five looks at Klaus for a brief second and then back to Diego. “Klaus has voices in his head. Best keep away from him.”

“Schizophrenia?” Diego guesses. Though, based on the intense eye contact Klaus was giving said voices, it really does look like Klaus is talking to someone directly in front of him and not just to himself. 

“That’s what Vanya says, but I’m not so sure,” Five hints with a much more open tone this time. Five turns to quickly glance at the guards by the door. Diego tenses, wondering if he should be careful with what he says around here. Though, Five might just be crazy. He prefers to be called after a number for crying out loud. 

The boy bites his lip, writing on the first line in his notebook. He then sits back casually into his chair, leaving his notebook on display. His blue eyes flicker from Diego to the sheet. It’s unsettling, and Diego inhales sharply when he reads what’s written. 

Don’t let them hear you. 

Diego yearns to ask who the hell is ‘they’ but Five quickly changes his train of thought. He snaps his notebook closed, and he helps Vanya up, and they walk towards the kitchen. With one last look at Klaus, who appears to be losing his one-sided game, he stands and walks into the kitchen with Allison and Luther.

****

A loud beep pulls Diego out of his sleep, and he holds himself back from grabbing the clock and hitting it against the wall. 

Goddamn mandatory eight am breakfast. 

Blankets shuffle from the other bed, and Diego cocks an eyebrow when Luther gets up and immediately goes back down onto his knees to begin doing push-ups. 

Unfortunately, there was no gym. It was just Luther making his room into a gym. Diego will have to get crafty with his workout when he finally gets used to this shitty schedule. He was more of a night person. 

Today was his second day. Yesterday wasn’t so bad since apparently it was one on one time with therapists and doctors. That meant he didn’t see much of the other guys. They disappeared one by one. They would come back only to disappear again. 

Diego had time alone to himself to ponder what the hell Five meant by not letting them hear him. He has no idea who ‘they’ are, and he hasn’t had time to ask Five. Five probably won’t even tell him, since he is a crazy bastard. 

He’s counting on Five being purely mentally insane rather than something going on in the institution. 

He stretches, popping some joints and lies back down. He groggily looks down at Luther, “So, Allison is mute, huh?” 

Luther freezes in his actions, but then he continues, “Yes.” 

It’s a sharp, no arguing response. Diego rolls his eyes, “Guessing she hasn’t told you how she got like that?” 

“Look,” Luther’s booming voice quiets Diego’s thinking process. Luther stands up from the floor with his fists clenched. A voice screams at Diego to shut the fuck up for once as he takes the other man in. He struck a chord, and now he has to face the consequences. 

Either way, Diego gets up from his bed with cautious feet, ready to fight or run at any given moment. 

In response, Luther deflates, as if realizing what he was doing. Like he’s coaching himself down from some high, he takes a few breaths. He exhales, “Allison did some stuff in her past. She’s here to move on. That’s all I know.” 

Diego nods, understanding. He gets it. He wants to ask if it’s a volunteering thing. If one morning she can tap out and leave, but he already pissed Luther off enough this morning, so he doesn’t. 

Luther returns to his morning routine, and Diego decides to develop his. He copies Luther by doing 50 push-ups and 60 curl ups. He’ll go for a run in the courtyard after breakfast. He puts on shorts and a hoodie and walks into the bathroom to do his business and brush his teeth. 

With one last glance towards Luther, he leaves the room and heads to the entertainment room. There’s no one else there, so he quietly sits in a chair by the window. He hears soft violin music in the distance. 

He doesn’t have to wait long, and he goes to stand when a clock rings its bell, but he stops when he notices a chess board in play. 

It must be the one Klaus was playing with yesterday. Diego finds it amusing when the white set was playing recklessly with no motive or plan. Any move Klaus would have chosen to make, would have led to another defeat. The black set was another story. The queen was being protected by a bishop and a knight. Pawns covered the board with very serious, structured thought. 

It confused Diego to no end. He knows next to nothing about schizophrenia, but it was almost as if an entirely different person was playing against Klaus. Someone with strategy and an organized thinking process. A voice in a man’s head couldn’t possibly do this. 

Could Klaus be faking? Could Klaus be faking the voices in his head? Five doesn’t believe Klaus has schizophrenia, but what else can it be? Who was Klaus talking to? 

Diego curses himself under his breath. He doesn’t even know Klaus. He has no idea what he’s like. 

But he does have a slight idea what the difference was between having voices in your head and talking to a real person. He decides to do something about it. 

Checking his surroundings, he reaches out and moves the queen belonging to the black set. 

He gets up quickly when someone walks into the room. It’s Allison, and he jogs over to meet her. “Morning,” he yawns. 

She responds with a smile, and they make their way to get food. They’re in line with food trays when a lady behind the counter speaks up, “Hey, Allison, are you still working tomorrow?” 

Allison responds with bringing a fist up and down, bending her wrist with a smile. The other lady beams, and Diego supposes that’s sign for ‘yes’.

They’re walking to a table when Diego asks, “Do we all get jobs?” 

Allison reaches into her pocket and pulls out a notepad. She writes with permanent sharpie and holds it up. 

Yes. You’ll eventually get one. 

At Diego’s scowl, she writes again. 

It’s better than sitting around bored. Slowly going crazy. 

Diego chuckles at the added comment. Allison got him there. 

He digs into his meal, not wanting his food to get cold. He eats until the notepad slides into his view. 

How is rooming with Luther?

Diego snickers with a mouth full of eggs, “Delightful. Almost got him to kick my ass this morning.” 

Allison rolls her eyes and shakes her head. She smiles at him fondly though, and writes once more. 

He’s got a hell of a punch. 

“Bring it.” 

“I’m telling you, Vanya,” Five’s voice pipes up from behind Diego. They must have just woken up. “Someone back there has a crush on me with the way they’re making the coffee now.” 

Five and Vanya come strolling up, putting their plates and taking a seat by Allison. Luther should be coming soon, and Diego doesn’t feel like putting up a fight again, so he moves a few seats down in front of Vanya. 

Vanya smiles fondly, “That good?” 

Five whistles before taking another sip out of the steaming mug. Vanya smile warms, and she playfully pushes at Five’s shoulder. He leans over with a smile of his own and kisses her forehead. 

Huh. Luther wasn’t joking around. 

It is odd to say, but Five looks better today. There are still small circles under his eyes, but they’re far smaller and lighter than the last time he saw the boy. 

Diego curses at himself. Getting close to these people already. What is he, a softie? 

_Diego, you big softie_. 

Diego nearly chokes on his orange juice at the memory. It’s a memory he can tell, but he has no idea who said it. Was it his memory? It was a female voice, and he wonders if it was that detective lady he had known. 

He wonders if anyone else was experiencing the same thing. Memory loss. Memory confusion. Whatever it is. Why can’t he remember much before he got here? He hardly remembers his trial. Do these people have the same problem? Are they confused on why they’re here too? 

Luther finally comes around and takes a seat across Allison. Diego now knows how a third wheeler feels. Except this time he would be a fifth wheeler. 

Another plate hits the table, and he turns to find Klaus taking a seat beside Vanya. What was it today? Don’t sit near Diego at all costs?

He notices Klaus has two plates. He sets a plate in front of himself, and then another plate with only waffles and a glass of milk in the space beside him. 

Diego can’t take his eyes off him. 

He was wearing a white, flowy blouse that opened up to nearly his belly button. A black skirt that went down to below his kneecaps. 

He was also wearing eyeliner. Eyeliner. Did someone hate him? Cause if someone wanted to kill him, they’re doing a fantastic job with the king of femininity right within his reach. Curls perfect for tugging-

“Diego, right?” 

Diego has to calm himself down, and the only thing that comes out is a mere, “Hm?”

Klaus was looking at him with wide, enchanting puppy dog eyes. His black eyeliner looks so sexy on him, he’ll give whoever gave him the makeup a million dollars. The way Klaus puts his chin on the palm of his hand was killing everything within him besides of course his boner.

“Ben swears he didn’t touch his queen in our game of chess, and he’s absolutely sure someone moved it for him,” Klaus announces with a roll of his eyes directed at his right. He hisses offensively, “I don’t have the brains to do it, and he knows someone did.” 

Such a pretty boy with a pretty voice. 

Dumbstruck, Diego nods without realizing, “Yeah, I did. Sorry. I saw a chess game and thought I’d put my two cents in.” 

“See?!” Klaus guffaws as if he was arguing with an annoying younger sibling or maybe a cop. He flutters his eyelids at the table, “I was trying to show him that he wasn’t crazy!” 

The group is quiet for a minute, letting it soak in. Then, Allison breaks out in a laugh. Vanya blushes while Five and Luther suppress a smile. Diego watches Klaus in utter awe. Klaus winks at Diego. Diego shuts his mouth so he doesn’t do something embarrassing like stutter. 

He means to go back to his meal, but then a barefoot slides along his calf muscle, and he’s out of his chair with a yelp. 

“Gonna go j-jog!” 

Klaus wiggles his fingers at him, and Diego finally sees what’s tattooed on his palm. 

GOODBYE. 

*****

The run would’ve helped Diego get rid of his horniness if the object of his fantasies didn’t fucking follow him out there with him. 

Klaus sat innocently on a lawn chair with nothing but that damn skirt. He has sunglasses on, but Diego knows the fucker is watching him. Every now and then Klaus will talk to someone that Diego can’t see, gesturing comically with his arms. 

The sun beams harshly as he runs, and he makes a mistake taking a quick break near where Klaus is set up. 

He takes off his hoodie, leaving him shirtless. He rubs at some sweat dripping onto his eyelid. When he opens his eyes, there is Klaus holding a towel for him. The other boy reaches out to help clean him off, but Diego dodges his advances, grabbing the towel with a weak, “T-Thanks.” 

Klaus looks down, and Diego fears he upset the man until he peers up at him through his eyelids - and fuck that _really_ wasn’t fair. 

Especially because it draws Diego’s attention to Klaus’s face and neck, where sweat of his own has gathered up. He wonders how salty it would taste on his tongue. 

“Anytime,” Klaus responds with a light voice. He takes a step closer. The skirt is hanging onto his hips for dear life, and it’s fucking tantalizing. Maybe Klaus was faking schizophrenia because he doesn’t want people knowing he’s a damn manipulative psychopath. 

Diego is gone in a flash, running away with Klaus’s delightful laugh trailing behind him. 

He slows down to a fast walk, and he is halted when Grace steps in front of him with two plastic cups in both hands. She does look sympathetic when Diego huffs and takes the dreadful beige pill.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five wants a penpal. Klaus makes tea. Vanya just wants to do laundry. Diego has a meltdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so!!! i know it's been forever since the first chapter, and honestly i have no excuse. i had the second chapter done at the time, but idk my anxiety just took over my life for a bit but i am doing so much better. your comments are the world to me. i will be responding to the rest of the comments after i post this. i HOPE you guys like it!! 
> 
> i absolutely love your guesses and theories on this story. some of y'all are seriously spot on or at least close to it. <3

GROUP THERAPY ROOM A2 

Diego groans at the words planted on the door. He considers hiding away in his room or somewhere else, but that could potentially add more time to his sentence. He walks in to find Vanya and Five already here. Their chairs are pulled closer together, and Diego has to admit okay, they are kinda cute. 

He sees a sign-in sheet, and he scribbles his name down. He blanches when he sees positive signs scattered all over the walls. 

**You don’t have to be perfect to be amazing.**

**Positive thoughts lead to positive actions.**

**It’s a good day to have a good day.**

_Fucking kill me._

He takes a seat next to Vanya, who smiles at him with her warm, chocolate eyes. Five nods dismissively. He’s writing in his notebook again. His knee anxiously bounces, and his jaw is clenched. 

“I’m sorry if my music woke you up,” Vanya says breaking the silence. Diego looks at her with dazed eyes. “It’s what I do in the morning, but I can stop if it bothers you.” 

“It doesn’t bother me,” Diego assures her the same time Five says, “It doesn’t bother him.” 

Diego wonders what Five would do if he did say it bothered him. Though, the glare on the boy’s face before he said anything was purely murderous, and Diego doesn’t need to imagine. 

The others soon show up and join the circle. The room is quiet, especially when an older woman walks in. Heels echo loudly, and Diego takes her in. She has silver hair that is thrown up into a bun, and she wears a sheek black overcoat. She doesn’t fit the room or the atmosphere, and she brings a tense aura with her. She should be in a corporate office somewhere firing innocent people trying to do their jobs. Instead, she is here with a dominating presence that snatches the spotlight. 

Diego notices everyone staring at her in silence, and he takes a wild guess and say they all feel the same way. She has yet to look at anyone, typing away on her blackberry. Her sharp fingernails tapping loudly.

She goes straight to a lone chair, turning around and flashing a fake, wide smile at them. “Hi, I am Ms Handler. For those who don’t know me,” she introduces with a flash of interest to Diego. Diego cocks his head. “I am in charge of group therapy. Thank you so much for coming.” 

“I have better things to do than talk about my feelings with a stranger,” Five deadpans. Klaus gives a high pitch laugh in shock. Diego looks over at Klaus, who meets his gaze with a wet tongue running along his bottom lip. Diego shuts his eyes.

“If it will help, I can put you in a straight jacket and lock you up for a few hours. Have time to yourself.” 

Five shrugs, “Better than you or someone who thinks we’re crazy.”

Ms Handler looks at him with a cold glare. Through gritted teeth she says, “What do you suppose we do instead. Penpals?” 

Five juts his lower lip out in thought, “That’d be nice. We can help each other out. Crazy can match crazy.”

Diego has a strange feeling that he is attending some kind of secret deal - boxing match perhaps. There is a sense of repetition and familiarity in Five’s eyes. They must do this all the time - go back and forth until one of them shows their belly. 

Ms Handler hums, sitting down. She eyes Luther, “Anything you want to tell the group today? Something that will inspire hope?” 

Group therapy ends up being incredibly boring mixed with a few surprises. It starts with Luther taking the question seriously and giving some bullshit advice like taking it day by day. Vanya takes his side, explaining how music helps her and that the group should all find something to get us through this ‘situation’. 

Klaus makes comments every now and then, once saying sometimes he sees a diuretic elephant about to take a shit on his face when he closes his eyes. Diego has a sneaking suspicion that he’d find drugs in Klaus’s room. 

It’s when Ms Handler brings up the future, that the conversation takes a twisted turn. “Five, do you have theories on our future? Perhaps, the apocalypse? Anything we can clear up?” 

Diego hitches his breath. Apocalypse? What damn apocalypse? Was this what Five was working on?

Five’s hand fidgets at his side, “Your tiny brain can’t handle it.” 

“Try me,” she challenges with a stern tone. 

Five squints at her, and Vanya looks at him worriedly. 

“My answer has changed with a sudden new variable to take to account. I’m waiting for slots to be filled, so I can formulate a clear outcome.” 

Ms Handler claps, bringing her polished nails to her face, “Lovely.” Her tone is mysterious, and it runs chills down Diego’s back when she stands to leave without a goodbye or dismissal. 

*****

“What the hell were you thinking, Five?” 

The group of them meet in the courtyard. They all form a mini circle, and it doesn’t take but a second for Luther to square off Five. “You could’ve gotten us more time added to our sentences. Mouthing off like that.” 

Vanya stands behind Five, holding a firm grip on Five’s arm. “We really shouldn’t be doing this out in the open like this…”

Luther parts his lips to argue, but Five jumps in with a low hiss, “I have a plan, you big ape. I’m setting things in motion.” 

Allison signs something, and Five scoffs, “You don’t need to know now. I’ll tell you guys when it’s time.”

“Until then, can I get a drink?” Klaus hiccups with a wave. Diego was thinking the same thing. 

“Yeah, I’m out of here,” Diego salutes. “Tell me or don’t tell me what the plan is whenever. I don’t care. I just want to get out of here.”

Five turns on him, “You think you’re ever going to leave? You were sentenced, what, two or three months I assume? I was too, and I’m _still_ here after five months.” 

“Oh, gee, I wonder why,” Klaus teases with a scoff. His eyes drift to the right momentarily, and he grins. Diego wants to pull Klaus with him, but he chooses not to. He storms off towards the library. He would give anything to go to a bar and drink himself to death. 

The library was deserted and quiet. Perfect. 

He can finally have some alone time. Look nice for whoever is in charge of sentences. Maybe he can ask to shorten it with a wink and a sly smile. Do the complete opposite of whatever the hell Five is doing.

What plan? Why did they require a plan? They weren’t trapped here. Five was crazy - of course they lengthened his time. If some guy was rambling on about some apocalypse, he’d want him locked away too. 

Everything about this place is confusing. It was getting to be far too much for him to handle. Maybe he can request to transfer to another facility. Anywhere else but here. 

Diego grabs a random book from a shelf and heads to the back. He doesn’t plan on fully reading the book, only deter people to leave him alone. 

He gets his mind off the subject at hand for thirty minutes or so, reading about physics, which he knows everything about. Physics was his favorite class in school. It was easy and an easy grade. The paper plane race was an activity he dominated in. No one could beat him. 

Nothing wrong with refreshing his memory. 

Soft footsteps approach, and he looks up to find Klaus. He’s barefoot again - since when is he not nowadays. He has three cups in one hand and a tea kettle in the other. Diego raises an eyebrow when Klaus places one cup in front of him, one cup in front of himself, and the last one to Klaus’s left. Diego tenses when Klaus gets close to pour him some, and he inhales the other boy’s scent. He smells like lavender. 

Klaus pours tea generously into all three cups and sits down. His green eyes are cloudy, eyelids struggling to stay apart. Diego juts his chin out at the lone, full cup. “Who’s that for?” 

Klaus grins, “For Ben! He loves green tea. It settles the monsters in his tum-tum.” 

Okay, whatever that means. Diego closes his forgotten book, “Is it just Ben? Are there others?” 

Klaus hums in thought. His smile turns tactile, yet sweet. He looks Diego up and down, and Diego feels like he’s on trial again. 

Klaus leans in, nearly crawling halfway on top of the table that separates them. The wood creaks in protest at the weight. His breath hits Diego’s nose, and he smells mint. His brain screams at him to ‘Abort!’ ‘This was planned!’ but all hell the way the skinnier male was looking at him. Klaus tilts his head just so, little brown hairs dangling over his forehead. His lips are chapped, and he watches Diego as he runs his tongue over the irritated skin.

Klaus lures him in close, stealing every ounce of Diego’s attention. Diego forgets where they are. What book? He has no book. Why was he here again? His brain is shutting down the longer Klaus looks at him like _that_. Diego far too weak and sex deprived to stop it. 

Klaus finally answers with a slur, “It depends how sober or distracted I am.” 

Well, fuck. 

Diego has no idea what happened. 

One minute Klaus is luring him in with soft words, and then the next Diego is between Klaus’s legs up against a wall in a closet in the back of the library. His hands wrapped tightly under the other male’s thighs to prevent him from falling or god forbid leaving. His nails dig into Klaus’s sensitive skin, which pulls more sinful moans and beautiful noises from his lips with every thrust. 

He licks up Klaus’s neck like he desperately wanted to do this morning. It tastes salty, and he bites down hard on the tender skin. The leather skirt Klaus has on flaps against the wall and Diego’s legs. 

“Fuck, Di, yea, gimme gimme gimme,” Klaus begs into his ear. His eyeliner is smudged, and it leaves Diego hot and heavy. 

“Going to mark you up, baby. Is that okay with you?” Diego teases with a grunt. Klaus parts his lips to answer, but he is unable to answer at a particular deep and harsh jab against his prostate. 

“Fuck!” 

Heat pulls Diego to his coming orgasm, cursing as Klaus tightens around him. He chases his high, gripping hard onto Klaus - he’s going to love to see bruises on his milky thighs tomorrow. He presses his forehead on the wall next to Klaus, nipping at the earlobe there, breathing in sweet, sweet Klaus. 

Klaus moans loud and whorish, and Diego kisses him. He fucks his tongue inside, matching the urgency of his thrusts. Klaus is whiney, yet compliant, lazily trying to catch up to Diego’s speed. 

Pleasure warms his inners, fogging his senses to the tip of his fingers. With one final thrust, he cums deep inside Klaus’s hole, blindly reaching over to carry the other to his own release. Klaus cums with a shout mixed with a whimper and cry. His mouth falls open, and Diego nips bruises on his jaw. 

The small closet hold their moans and deep breathing from the outside. Diego hears sudden giggles next to his ear. He leans back to find Klaus giggling with a loopy, unfocused expression on his face. He runs fingers down Klaus’s scalp to the back of his head, clenching a wad of hair to force the other boy to look at him. 

“He’s gone!” Klaus barks in laughter. His chest moves up and down, chasing for air. “His fucking face… his face - _priceless_.” 

Diego cracks a smile, “That’s good.” 

Klaus doesn’t show interest in moving, so Diego takes over. He pulls out his spent cock, tucking it back into his sweats. He puts Klaus down with a steady hand, who is watching him with pure bliss dancing in his eyes. 

He grabs a towel and cleans them both up. He’ll have to race to the shower to get it all completely off him. He slides his hoodie back on, and he helps Klaus put his once clean blouse on. It was ripped on the cuffs and definitely stretched out beyond its limit. 

Klaus is nothing but a pool of pleasure, giggling and reaching out for Diego with weak arms. If he hadn’t just fucked the man senseless with his skirt still on, he would’ve called the whimpering mess adorable. 

Fuck it. He’s adorable. 

Diego checks himself and Klaus over, smirking when he spots bruises and bite marks on the man. With a kiss to Klaus’s cheek, he’s out the door. 

It’s dinner time when Five comes to the table with his notebook in his hand. He flashes a knowing grin at Diego, who scrunches his eyebrows on guard. 

Five opens his notebook regardless, “Thank you for your help with finally finding where the new variable fits into the equation. I can work more efficiently and change my tactics on solving it.” 

Diego reddens and considers reaching across the table and snapping the boy’s neck. He ignores everyone at the table, not having the dignity to meet their eyes. Klaus, though, shows no shame beside him and lies his head on his shoulder with a clap. 

Five suddenly turns to Klaus and looks him over. He notices how wrecked his shirt is, “Nice top.” 

“Thanks, his name is Diego.” 

Diego chokes on his garlic bread, and down the table Luther coughs orange juice all over himself. 

*****

The next week or so go by without a hitch. Luther and him still hardly talk, and he snarks the big guy as many times as he can manage. Unfortunately, Luther is getting used to his smart mouth, so Diego has to turn to other means. 

_“You so much as look at my bed while you two… canoodle in here… I’m going to request changing roommates.”_

_“Like you haven’t already,” Diego deadpans with his arms crossed. Klaus moves with a calming finesse from behind him to Luther with one finger pointed out._

_“Canoodle! Never heard of that one,” Klaus teases with a small finger wave. He turns around to make eye contact with Diego. “Diego, darling, when are we canoodling? I need to check my schedule.”_

_“Oh, just forget it.”_

It’s too bad he doesn’t have recollection of his time before his trial. Sometimes he can hardly breathe from the sudden hits of familiarity. 

Klaus understands him and vice versa. They have the same humor, even with their different personality traits. Klaus knows when Diego needs to be entertained or coddled back to reality. Diego knows when Klaus needs to be vulnerable, open up to someone, and experience validation in response. He is more than happy to oblige. They get each other, and Diego doesn’t remember if he’s ever had that with someone - that pull and clicking together like magnets. 

Klaus saw the good in people, smiling without a second thought at a nurse who don’t treat him like the wonderful human being he is. Klaus even treats Luther like he’s not the most annoying asshole the world has ever seen. Though, he does rile him up quite a bit, and that’s what Diego can get behind. He has no idea what is going to come out of this. He doesn't know if Klaus will even acknowledge once this is all over, but at least he has him _now_. He has someone he can temporarily rely on and fucking relax when necessary. Klaus was an important factor of survival in this place, a beacon of hope, and Diego is going to hang tight as long as it takes. 

He can admit this isn’t the ideal environment to meet and engage a - er - companionship with someone. What with Klaus and the voices in his head. This Ben guy won’t leave Klaus alone, but Klaus promises whoever that is is nice and doesn’t torment him like some of the other voices. Why he thinks saying that will somehow comfort Diego he doesn’t know. 

He’s still not sure if Klaus has schizophrenia, nor is Five. Five may have lost his marbles, but he makes sense from time and again. Klaus treat the voices as if they’re actual, living people walking around him. Pouring a cup for them, playing board games, and more. It wasn’t how other schizophrenics act, and Diego figures there’s more than meets the eye. 

There was something off with this place, but he can’t put his finger on what exactly it was. He doesn’t remember why he’s here in the first place. He doesn’t remember any parts of his life before being thrown in here. 

There was only six of them in this wing. There should be more, right? Why is it just them? 

Every time he tries to bring it into the conversation with Five, he’s shut down almost immediately. Five either glares at him or he walks right out of the room without another word. Five must have his suspicions, but unwilling to talk about it.

Five is acting normal today. He is playing darts with Allison. They aren’t real darts. They have soft velcro padding for the board to catch. Diego would join, but his motor skills have been decreasing in coordination. 

He’s left with lying on the couch listening to some stupid show Luther enjoys. His eyes flicker to the door waiting for Klaus to show up. He was never one to wake up early, so he usually takes a nap after breakfast. 

Vanya was in therapy with her counselor. Some guy named Mr. Jenkins. He was strictly Vanya’s counselor, which was odd. Diego knows his counselor was Dr. Pogo, who he hasn’t met yet, but he was also Luther’s and Allison’s. Ms. Handler was Five’s to his misfortune, and Ms Cha-Cha was Klaus’s. 

It makes no sense. Vanya and Five suffer from severe anxiety to his understanding. You would think they would share the same counselor, especially because there aren’t many of them here in the first place.

“Come on, Allison, do it as I showed you. You have to calculate the trajectory and enforce the right amount of power,” Five advises like the know it all he is. 

Allison rolls her eyes and throws the dart. It lands on the far upper corner. 

“You’re clearly not helping,” Diego snarks from his place on the couch. 

“You’re clearly not as smart as me,” Five bites back. Allison slaps his side. 

Diego goes to respond, but he spots Klaus waltzing in. The skinnier male dramatically gestures his arms, talking to someone behind him. There was no one there, but the way Klaus turns around every few seconds mid-speak says otherwise. Diego bets it’s Ben again. 

Klaus goes over to one of the nurse’s, plucking the pill from the small plastic cup lied out for him. He swallows it easily without water, then skips his way over to the group. With a curt spin, he sits in an empty chair with grace, though his mouth cancels out his dexterity. 

“If a bear and a shark had a fight, who would win?” 

No one says anything, and Klaus glances to his left and nods. “Ben goes bear, but I go with shark. With those sharp teeth? Please!”

Allison laughs quietly, shoulders gleefully jumping up and down. She signs lamely - for Diego’s benefit - by forming claws with her fingers. Klaus tsks and calls her a traitor. She throws another dart. Five huffs, “Idiots. Idiots all around me.” 

Klaus changes course and points to Luther, “You, big guy.” 

Luther grunts, “I’m not voting on this waste of a conversation.” Allison flips him off, but sits next down next to him with a knowing smile on her lips. Luther smiles back at her and gives in, “Shark.” 

“Yes!” Klaus shouts in victory. He moves swiftly over to Diego, getting comfortable next to his form. He brings his legs and sets them on Diego’s lap. The bubbly male peers up at him through his eyelashes, and Diego stares entranced. His black eyeliner is darker than usual, making his green eyes pop. Klaus tilts his head as he moves closer, and Diego bites his lip. 

Klaus may be a tease, but Diego was a bigger tease. 

“I don’t know, it’s a tough question,” Diego drawls. His eyes flicker to Klaus’s lips, tilting his head and decreasing the space between them. He has Klaus in the palm of his hand by the way he maneuvers closer, climbing more into Diego’s lap. Their lips are barely an inch away, their breaths mingling together. Diego touches Klaus’s chin with a finger, lightly forcing eye contact. 

“But I’ll have to go with bear.” 

“Oh, come on!” Klaus shrieks, flying off Diego’s lap as fast as he got on it. “What’s the point of having sex with you, if you won’t take my side!” 

Diego raises his eyebrows and makes a big ‘O’ with his lips, “That’s all I am to you?” 

“Yes!” Klaus gawks, flailing his arms wildly. “Not because you’re a good lay. You’re not as good as you think you are!” 

Diego smirks, watching Klaus march over to Five and Allison. He snatches the dart out of Five’s hands, who cuffs the back of his head, and throws it. 

“Mr. Lomeli, time for your appointment,” a voice rings out. Diego turns around to face a short, stubby man with a hairpiece. His glasses are at the edge of his nose, and wrinkles cover his long face. He wore a sweater with khakis, and he holds a clipboard with chubby fingers. 

Diego huffs and stands up. He takes a quick detour over to Klaus and presses his lips to the other’s shoulder. Klaus lamely swats at him, and Diego chuckles and walks away. Diego walks behind Dr. Pogo, who introduces himself politely. Dr. Pogo brings them to his office. 

It was different from Grace’s. Grace’s office was bland and held no personal touch. For such a sweet, caring woman, one would think she would want to brighten up her office with hope. Hope like pictures of her family, friends, or anything really.

Dr. Pogo didn’t have pictures of anyone on his desk, but he did have a few motivational quotes on the walls and a whole bunch of books on shelves. It wasn’t much, but it was relaxing to talk to someone who doesn’t...radiate some sort of robotic personnel. 

“How are you doing today, Diego?” Dr. Pogo begins. 

“As good as anyone would be,” Diego remarks. Pogo gives him a sympathetic expression. He writes something down. 

“Why do you think you are here in this facility, Diego?” Dr. Pogo asks after a few minutes. 

The words strike Diego in the form of a lash, and every nerve within him flare up. Why was he here? He doesn’t know! He doesn’t know what he did. He barely remembers what his damn lawyer looked like. Did he even have one? Was he defending himself? Was he suing someone? 

The way Pogo asked him wasn’t condescending in any way. It sounded genuine, and that’s the only thing that has Diego not causing a fuss.

“I have no idea.” 

Pogo purses his lips in thought, squinting at Diego, taking him in. Diego tenses up under the stare. 

“How have you been settling in?” 

“I’ve settled in fine, but I wouldn’t call it settling in,” Diego argues. “Since I don’t know what I did to get in here in the first place.” 

Pogo furrows his eyebrows worriedly, “You don’t remember anything?” 

“Nothing,” Diego affirms. He starts to draw back, speculating Dr. Pogo. The man wasn’t acting the way someone would once told they don’t remember anything. Pogo’s body language doesn’t make sense to him. 

Pogo has to know something. He doesn’t ask a single question following Diego’s answer. A therapist ignoring his amnesia? It doesn’t match up. 

“I’ll have Grace fax me your paperwork, so I can look over your vitals. Something must be off with your medication,” Pogo notes in his folder. 

Diego decides to take a chance, “What exactly is my medication for?” 

Pogo swallows, “It is to regulate your emotions and calm your nerves.” 

“Have I shown anger tendencies?” Diego challenges. “Have I seemed on edge lately?” 

Pogo sputters, face hinting scarlet, “N-No-”

“Then, I don’t know why I’m taking medication. I feel weird when I’m on them,” Diego explains. He winces when he lets that bit of information out. He is ashamed for telling a complete stranger, who he doesn’t have an ounce of trust for, information about himself. 

Pogo scoots his chair up in interest, “Weird? In what way?” 

“Nevermind,” Diego shuts down. He crosses his arms in retaliation. Pogo deflates, sighing when he writes notes down. 

Pogo meets Diego’s eye and sinks farther into his chair, “I believe your medication needs to be tampered with. It perhaps might be too strong, but I need to make you aware of something, Diego.” 

Diego remains quiet, raising an eyebrow. 

Pogo looks to his left, and his facial expression is practically dripping with worry. It has Diego on edge. 

“Have you thought maybe your mind is trying to protect you?” 

“Protect me from what?” Diego snaps. 

Pogo’s shoulders drop, “You’re in here for a reason. Your mind might be shielding you from the harsh truth. The trauma. What you went through. You’ve been through quite a lot, but you’re here now. You’re here because you need help, and you’re going to get it. I want to help you, Diego.” 

The revelation strikes Diego cold. 

Did he hurt someone? Did he put other people’s lives in danger? His past job was in law enforcement. His job was to save lives. 

_Saving lives, baby._

But is that what he did? Did he help people, or did he truly become corrupt and put their lives in danger? 

He can’t remember his detective friend to save his life, but there was friendship there - he can sense it. They got along, and how would they get along if he was dangerous to society? Was that just another thing his traitorous mind was covering up for his sake?

His chest tightens with the possibilities. He can’t imagine hurting anyone who didn’t deserve it, but isn’t that what all the villains say? That they didn’t harm anyone who didn’t deserve it? 

The room begins to spin, and Diego tightens his hold on his chair to stay afloat. 

Pogo starts to ask him more questions, and Diego thinks he answers. Time was running together. Pogo is taking another approach, asking Diego gently about what he does during the day. Diego admits he got a job at the library. It wasn’t much, but it has him busy for two hours three days a week. Pogo approves of this. 

The session is pushed to a halt an hour later, and Diego stands to leave. He wants so bad to bolt out of there, but Pogo stops him. 

“I see you’ve grown close to Klaus.” 

Every muscle within Diego tenses defensively. His jaw clenches painfully to swallow his desire to yell at the elder man. His fists form into fists and he exhales, “That’s really none of your business.” 

His tone is sharp and unwavering. Pogo stands there a few feet away from him with cane in hand. Pogo relentlessly continues, “This is not the place to begin a relationship of any kind. You two are not mentally capable, and it will only setback your progress.” 

“Thanks for the advice,” Diego sneers. He stalks out of the room. 

The room is dizzy when he leaves, and he has to lean clumsily on the nearby wall. He can hear his heartbeat in his eardrums. 

What if he was crazy? What if he hurt somebody? What kind of life was he living? Was he a danger to people around him? 

What if Pogo was right? Maybe he needs to be here - locked up and never let go. 

He shakes his head, stumbling away from the closed door. His head is pounding, and his hands shake at his sides. 

He needs a drink. 

This place won’t allow that, so he settles for a walk. He has no idea where he’s going, but he needs air and to get away. 

Should he be in jail? Should be in a straight jacket for the rest of his life? The possibility of hurting the people here - his _friends_ \- causes his chest to tighten and ache. Harming the ones who helped him settle in here, welcoming him into their group. 

Hurting Klaus. Precious, sweet _Klaus_ , who was misunderstood and too nice for his own good. Harming him after being there for Diego in every shape or form. 

He was a monster. 

“Diego?” 

Diego sucks in a breath. He just wants to be alone- 

“Are you okay?” 

Diego flinches when suddenly Vanya appears in view with a laundry basket in tow. He looks and notices he’s sitting against a washer in the laundry room. 

He looks back at Vanya, who also had a huge sack full of clothes. Oh, right. Vanya and Five’s duties were laundry. 

Speak of the devil, Five comes bustling through the door cursing at having to heave bags full of dirty clothes around. Diego goes red when Five finally spots him, and he quickly looks away in embarrassment. 

Five yanks the bags with him over to Diego, and he falls down to his knees. It was strange to see such compassion in the guy’s face. It was friendly and intimate, and it only doubles Diego’s hysteria. 

“I belong here,” Diego chokes out. His mouth is desert dry. “I’m crazy. I-“ 

Vanya joins them. Her face full of worry. “You are not crazy, Diego,” she disagrees the same time Five scoffs. 

Five opens his mouth, but Diego beats him to it, “I don’t even know why I’m here! What if I did something so bad - so _terrible_. I-“

“ _Listen to me_ ,” Five hisses without true vile, grabbing tight on Diego’s blue shirt. His blue eyes are wide and manic, and Diego shuts his mouth. Vanya skirts closer, placing a comforting hand on Diego’s knee. “You are not crazy, idiot. You don’t know why you’re here? None of us do. I don’t know, Vanya doesn’t know, Luther, Allison, nor Klaus. None of us have any memories.” 

Diego stares gobsmacked at the new information, “Then why…”

Five breaks their eye contact and turns to Vanya and says disappointedly, “I wish I knew. I haven’t figured it out yet. I just need one more puzzle piece to click into place, and I believe I’ll have at least parts of it figured out.” 

Diego hits his head with the metal behind him with a huff, “Great. Until then, we’re a bunch of loons.”


End file.
